


The New Admiral

by Killermanatee



Series: Desires [5]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: BDSM, Choking, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Dominant Chakotay, Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, PWP, Porn, Post-Endgame, Smut, Spanking, They just really enjoy sex, who can blame them?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-25 00:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17110736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killermanatee/pseuds/Killermanatee
Summary: Chakotay has just been promoted to admiral. A celebration is in order. Especially since he now has his very own belt.





	The New Admiral

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlackVelvet42](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackVelvet42/gifts).



> This goes out to my kind, smart, supportive and all around fantastic friend BlackVelvet 42. I hope this is the sequel to ["The Admiral's Belt"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734639)you were hoping for. Happy birthday, love. <3

 

“So how would you like to celebrate _, Admiral_?” I quip, putting a little extra emphasis on Chakotay’s new rank, as we walk into our kitchen. I may be teasing, but I am so incredibly proud of his achievement, which was long over-due not merely in my opinion.

He steps up to me, our arms easily circling each other’s waists.

“I thought we did just celebrate. I seem to remember a whole congregation of very important brass.” He smirks. “One of those fellow admirals couldn’t take her eyes off me. Must have been this shiny new uniform.”

I grin, having an idea where he is going with this and it adds to the tingling between my thighs that’s been building all day.

“Really now?” I raise an eyebrow and can’t help being transfixed by his dimples.

“Oh yes,” he runs his hands over my back, “she kept licking her lips, crossing and uncrossing her legs…” He trails off, watching my expression with growing intensity.

This is turning into exactly the celebration I had in mind. I trace the top of the belt at his waist, the leather of it still stiff.

“I have an idea what that admiral was thinking about.” My fingers dip lower, running over his behind.  

With a few slow but deliberate steps he has me pushed against our kitchen counter, the bulge pressing into me as confirmation that our plans are headed in the same direction. He bends down to place a kiss on my neck.

“I am pretty sure I know why she was squirming in her seat.” His lips trail along my jaw as he whispers his words against my skin. “I bet she couldn’t stop thinking about sucking my cock.”

I have to swallow as my pulse speeds up, my throat suddenly dry. But he doesn’t stop, his voice a low rumble right next to my ear.

“She was fantasizing about having her throat stuffed, wanting to swallow my come.”

My underwear is fully soaked through as he so aptly describes what I’ve been picturing all day.

“Yes…” I have to clear my throat, “… yes please.”

I can feel his smile. “Do I get to pick how I want to celebrate?”

“Yes,” comes my eager reply, “anything. Everything.”

“Good.”

With that he steps away from me and I actually sway, needing to hold on to the counter for support. Smug bastard.

We regard each other for a moment as I try to regain some composure. Not that looking at him is helping in any way. He’s always been handsome and the years haven’t changed that, but there is something about this new uniform that makes him seem even taller, even more commanding.

“I want you to undress and then come to my office. Don’t keep me waiting.” Without another word about what to expect he turns and leaves me on my shaky legs.

I head to the bedroom and no more than five minutes later I am walking into his home office to find him sitting behind his empty desk, a padd in his hand.

Well this is not what I expected.

“Come here,” he says without looking up, and I do as I am told, padding naked to his side. But he continues reading, and a hint of annoyance makes me frown. I understand he is excited about this promotion but I didn’t think he’d be _this_ happy to start his new work assignments. 

“Get on my desk and spread your legs.”

 _Oh_. Maybe he is not quite as focused on work as I feared. Maybe if I do as he says he will be able to tear his eyes from whatever he is reading and just _maybe_ that’ll get me the attention I crave.

As gracefully as possible I get onto the cold surface, suppressing a hiss as my bare bottom comes in contact with the polished wood, and spread my legs, opening myself up to him.

For a few long moments nothing happens. I watch him with anticipation, waiting for a command, for him to acknowledge my nudity, for anything really. But he is still reclined in his chair, one leg crossed loosely over the other, eyes trained on the small device in his hand.

There is no sign of the arousal he quite blatantly expressed minutes ago, and I am torn between trusting that what he has planned will be worth the wait, and irritation at being ignored. It doesn’t help that this room is not kept warm enough to make my nudity comfortable, sending a shiver across my skin.

“Touch yourself.”

His self-assured command is spoken clearly into the silence and the firm instruction makes my stomach flutter.

Determined to give him a reason to shift his focus to me, I run a fingertip from my collarbone slowly down between my breasts, circling closer and closer towards my hard nipple. My eyes fall shut as I lean on one arm behind me to arch my back. I take my time pinching and pulling my flesh and possibly exaggerate a little how breathless I am. Then my touch glides down my stomach, I can almost feel my wet folds and…

“I didn’t give you permission to do that,” he says sternly, making my eyes snap open and my fingers pause. He is still reclined in his chair but he is looking at me out of dark eyes that allow no doubt as to who is in control.

“You can play with your tits, but stay away from that cunt. It’s mine, understood?” and with that his eyes drift back to his padd and I exhale slowly in an attempt to calm my racing pulse.

I follow his orders and my hand moves back up my torso, even if it is difficult to ignore my throbbing clit. I am sure he knows how desperate I am for him to touch me, how wet and swollen I already am in anticipation. But I am not going to beg. Not this early on. Not before he has even touched me. Hell, or even _really_ looked at me. 

I think back to the occasions he has brought me to climax by only teasing my breasts and maybe if I mimic his touch, if I press down onto the table _just right_ I can get there on my own. I keep trying my best but the release stays out of reach and my legs begin to shake as I force myself to keep them spread, to not give into the urge to press them together in hopes of the faintest friction.

“Stop,” he interrupts my attempts.

Once more I comply, but my chest is heaving, my breath coming in short bursts.

Without saying another word he gets up and my heart beats faster at the prospect of him finally touching me.

But he just steps around and I twist my torso to follow him.

“Don’t move,” he simply instructs. I can sense his body heat, can smell him right behind me and I want to lean back, rest my head against his shoulder, feel his strong chest, but he has told me to stay still and so I don’t dare to act upon my desire. I hear him rustling behind me and squirm, hoping he is undressing.

“Open your mouth,” he tells me and I comply, only to feel the stiff leather of his belt slide between my teeth, its width forcing my jaw wide open. He tightly warps the strap around my head, crossing it at my nape to loop it back to the hollow of my throat where he secures it with the buckle.

He then places my hands so they are curled around the edge of the desk, his legs brushing my knuckles.

“Keep your hands right there. You’ll regret it if I have to tie you down,” he threatens right by my ear, making me shiver. I tighten my grip, determined to proof that I can do as I am told.

I can picture perfectly what I must look like, flushed and exposed, taking up almost the entirety of his large desk, adorned with the sign of his new rank under my chin, while he looks me over like a trophy on his way back around. I am unable to touch myself, left at his mercy, and I swallow down the excitement bubbling up, my throat straining against the tight constriction.

The bulge of his crotch tells me he isn’t unaffected after all. The realization excites me despite his face remaining passive when he resumes his seat. At least he doesn’t pick up the padd again.

He regards me from head to pushed-out chest, down to the apex of my thighs with a look of scrutiny, very unlike the open hunger I am so used to.

“If you do exactly as you are told I might allow you to come,” he calmly explains, his hands resting casually on his thighs, looking right at me.

I want him so damn much it hurts.

He continues without any acknowledgement of my situation. “Since I am the one celebrating, I don’t give a damn about your pleasure tonight.”

I swallow at that statement, nervousness shooting through me at the prospect of this, heightened by the tightness around my neck. He has denied me orgasms before but never with such cold deliberation.

“I am going to spend a lot of time at this desk, I wager.” He runs a hand over the wood, entirely ignoring my body and I want to move my legs into his path, force him to _please touch me already_ but this is about him, I tell myself, this is not about giving me pleasure for once. Somehow I manage to remain still.

“I will have to sit here late at night and on the weekends, and read more of these very tedious communiques and reports, and I think I’ll need something to ease my boredom.” He looks me over once more. A smile spreads on his lips, feral and dangerous.

“In the future when I sit here, forced to work at home, these memories will have to keep me going. Memories of my proper former Captain, my strong and composed wife squirming with desperation, begging me to let her come while I do as I please.”

He moves the chair closer and I hold my breath, feel saliva building up around the gag. I wait for his touch, but instead he takes another padd from a drawer and begins to read, holding it on the table between my thighs.

I want to scream. I am so on edge, so close to being able to come and maybe if I slowly inch forward I can press against his large hand. How can he be so calm if I am starting to lose my mind?

I yelp when his hand settles high on my thigh, the touch feeling impossibly hot to my sensitive nerves. Some drool trickles from the corner of my mouth, down onto my chest. Yet his eyes never leave his reading material as his fingers move closer and closer to my core. I feel light-headed, all my muscles are tense awaiting his touch. And then, as if it’s nothing, he slowly pushes two fingers into me.

I groan loudly at the sensation, bite down on the belt, and cramp with the effort not to raise my hips towards him, to seek the friction I must have. It takes all my strength to stay still despite the wild beat of my heart.

And he doesn’t even look at me. He continues to read while he withdraws his fingers.

This is when it dawns on me what he meant. His movements don’t serve the purpose of getting me off. He just wants to feel how much I want him, he wants the memory of my slick and swollen cunt around his fingers when he sits here in the future. I sob with the realization and more spit drips from my mouth.

He keeps sliding his fingers back and forth, pumping into me at such a painfully slow pace that it will never be enough to make me come. He keeps me at this brink of madness, constantly reminded of what he won’t let me have.  I am holding on to the desk in an attempt to control my urges and my heavy breathing emphasizes the restriction of the unforgiving leather.

Tears of frustration prickle in my eyes and I have no choice but to let the moisture run down my cheeks, down to my lips where they mingle with my drool. Throughout our relationship he has spanked and bitten and scratched me, he has given me bruises and welts and sore muscles but I don’t think I have ever been tortured like this, with his thick, strong fingers repeatedly taunting my arousal.

Finally he sets the padd aside and removes his fingers. They glisten with my juices and he studies them, then he stands. I hope against my better judgment that seeing this evidence of how much I need him will convince him to let me come, but instead he only rubs is fingers over my lips, enough for me to smell and taste myself.  

“You really want to come, don’t you?” he asks mockingly, and I nod, panting loudly, my eyes pleading with him since I can’t speak.

His fingers glide into my mouth, probe around the belt and I try to lick them, to suck them in, anything to show him how much I want him.

I moan in despair when he pulls his fingers away and steps around me. Once he is at my back I feel him undoing the belt and I take a deep, shaking breath. I want to wipe my face, but I don’t dare to move. So I settle for moving my aching jaw to loosen the muscles.

“Put your hands under your ass. I don’t want them in the way,” he says coldly.

I hurry to get into the uncomfortable position: my hands awkwardly cradling my behind as he pushes me onto my back, my head hanging over the edge of the desk, right in front of him, level with his crotch. I eagerly open my mouth, hoping to know what he has in mind.

He unzips his pants and I actually whimper when he pulls out his swollen, hard penis, the confirmation of his arousal, proof that he wants me just as much. I don’t think I have ever needed anything as much as I need to taste him. I stretch my neck in an effort to reach him but he laughs.

“What a cock-hungry slut you are.” His insult goes straight to my clit, the words ring in my ears, pulse through my veins.

He strokes himself and then he is running the tip of his shaft over my face, smearing pre-come over my cheeks. I am completely mesmerized by the velvety touch, looking up along his torso from my vulnerable position, and so the first harsh slap of the belt across my left thigh makes me jolt and cry out and more tears flow from my eyes.

“Keep those legs spread or you’re not coming tonight,” he warns and then the leather cracks down on my other thigh, stinging like piercing needles. Sweat breaks out when I wonder if he is going to slap my wet pussy, but I can’t tell if that possibility scares or excites me, so I do my best to keep my legs apart.

His belt comes down again, this time against my chest and with a little less force. He is still rubbing his cock over my face and his brows are drawn together as he looms above me. I keep my blurry vision trained on his stern expression, shuddering as the next sharp slap on my breasts makes me sob.  

Once more the belt hits my torso, this time right across a nipple and I know there will be marks in the morning. My nails dig into my tensing glutes with that realization as my whole body quivers under his onslaught. Twice more he strikes my breasts, his features set in hard lines, his other hand rubbing his erection over my damp face.

Then finally, blissfully, he pushes his hard flesh past my lips and I eagerly suck him in, stroke him with my tongue. He keeps moving forward relentlessly until I swallow and allow him past my gag reflex. His other hand settles on my throat, not pressing down, only covering my delicate skin.

“I love to feel my cock stretching you,” he says, fingertips tracing the spot where his member extends my throat. Then he pulls back out, just enough to let me take a deep breath before shoving himself down all the way once more until his balls press against my nose.

His fingers dig into a tender breast, and I groan around his obstructing cock. My fingers are going numb but I don’t care. I am too close to release, can almost feel the first hints of it.

“You think you’ll come like this, don’t you?” he asks while he is pulling back out again and I feel a shred of hope in immediate response to his words.

Then the harsh slap of his hand against my swollen cunt shoots through my body and I choke around his cock.

“Better not get your hopes up.” He pulls out all the way and I cough and sputter, saliva dragging over my face as he rubs the head of his cock over my cheeks and forehead, back to my chin.

“Get up, bend over, and put your hands flat on the desk.”

I am sore and stiff and my mind is a blur of sex and it’s so difficult to trust my legs, but I hurry to do as he says, taking the opportunity to wipe my palms over my sticky face. I need to come so badly, so desperately my entire body is shaking.

My nails scrape the wood as I bend over and spread my legs. My face is right above the glistening puddle I have left behind.

He steps up next to me, and a strong hand winds into my hair.

“Look at the mess you’ve made.” He grips the back of my head. “Clean it up.” And with that he forces me down.

The position is completely humiliating, degrading and yet I eagerly stick out my tongue and lap up my own juices while I feel even more running down my thighs. My taste is mingled with the polish of the wood, and the realization races through me that this is the exact spot his desk monitor usually sits. My knees shake, thinking that in the future, the faces of diplomats and Starfleet officials will be right above where I am now licking away the evidence of my need to be fucked.  

When I am done, he pushes down on my back and I give in, resting my torso on the hard wood, the cool surface soothing my flushed and aching chest. The edge cuts into the top of my thighs. It is offering a hint of pressure against my mound, and I will gladly take what I am given.

“Don’t get too comfortable, slut.”

It’s my only warning before the belt cracks against my ass. There is no build-up, no preparatory strokes, just the harsh, vicious sting as the leather comes down again.

I hiss and moan with the fire pulsing from my assaulted skin, all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes. Every muscle is tense, every nerve ringing with the pain until it pools between my legs, where my pussy is dripping.  

Chakotay’s lashes cover the top of my thighs, my lower back, every inch of my ass, and I squirm and sob. Tears run down my face and I bite my lip until I draw blood, determined to take everything he is dishing out, to stay in place, even as my legs twist in their effort to support me.

In quick succession he spanks me across both of my ass cheeks, then his teeth clamp down and I cry out in a mix of agony and desperation. My fingers curl around the edge of the desk, nails scraping against the wood, twisting and squirming, but I am taken over by the mindset of submission, fixed on nothing but the strokes that are still raining down.

When the leather hits my exposed cunt I scream, and I hate that I don’t think can’t take much more.

As if he can read my thoughts, the belt is flung to the desk in front of my face, making me flinch. The buckle has landed at the center of my field of vision, the Starfleet logo catching the light.

“I’m going to fuck that red ass of yours,” he grinds out and my legs give out entirely when he drags the tip of his cock through my slit _._ My fingers ache as they strain to keep me grounded on the desk.  

“Please,” I beg, my voice rough and scratchy, “please fuck me.” Another sob breaks from my sore throat. “Please, please…” I keep going, my voice hoarse.

I hear him open a drawer again and then cold lube is drizzled onto my ass, spread roughly by his confident touch. He shoves a thick finger into my tight anus, barely enough to prepare me for what is to come. When his cock is pressing against the ring of muscle I brace myself with the last of my strength and push against him, needing to feel him inside me.

He presses forward relentlessly, stretching me painfully, hotly, exactly like I need him to. I arch my back further. He groans.

“Yes,” he hisses, “You love it when I fuck your ass, don’t you?” He pulls my hips harshly against him, sinking into me all the way. His body is heavy on mine, and then he whispers right into my ear. “Whore.”

I shake underneath him, wailing, incapable of controlling my breathing, my voice, any part of myself while he sets a rough pace, his big cock deep inside me, filling me to completion. His fingers bite into my skin and he continues pumping into me, faster and faster, while he pants and moans.

“Feels so fucking good.” He grinds out and his pace gets wilder, less rhythmic. I know he is close. I‘m getting light-headed, my vision blurring. I’m floating, disconnected from reality.

With a final deep thrust and a guttural cry he empties himself inside me, pushing me against the edge of the desk once more before slumping over my back, hands at either side of my torso.

His breath is loud in my ear, tickling my hair. I am engulfed in his scent, his warmth. He is like a soothing blanket, protecting me in my vulnerable state, keeping any hint of negative thoughts away.

His hands loosen my grip on the desk’s edge, his fingers sliding between mine, and our wedding bands clink quietly when he begins to gently rub my strained joints.  

He remains buried inside me. I am still wound up tightly, and my eyes continue to sting, but now there is an added sense of appreciation. I am grateful for his willingness to let go with me, to give in to his urge that feeds my lust. When he presses a kiss to my neck, more tears fall from my eyes. He steps back and I quietly whimper in pain when he withdraws from me.

My legs are so weak they can’t support me any longer, but then he is there, strong hands around my waist, slowly and carefully turning me until I am on my back, arms at my side, him between my spread legs, looking down at me.

“Hey,” he says with a tender smile, his face glistening with sweat, hair tousled.

My throat feels tight, my chest constricted by a flood of emotions and then he kisses me. His lips are sweet and soft on mine, and my arms wind around him on their own accord even as he straightens up just enough to look at me.

“Everything okay?” he asks quietly.

I can only nod and smile at him, trying my best to keep my lip from quivering.

“I want to make you come against my mouth,” he says and I take a shaky breath, thinking about his head between my thighs.

“Do you think you’re up for it?” he inquires and I bite my lip but nod again, not ashamed of my continuous desire for him.

Grinning, he stands up straight, making sure to keep one large hand on my torso. He pulls up his chair and sits, placing both hands on my pelvis, soothing the redness left by the edge of his desk.

He gingerly winds his arms under my legs allowing them to rest on his shoulders and then licks slowly along my folds, humming as he laps at my juices. He pushes in his tongue, sucks on my clit, and caresses my labia. My arousal is back at full force almost instantly. It is no longer wild desperation, instead I am flooded with warmth, easily spiraling higher and higher on my way to completion.

“Please,” I mewl, “please don’t stop.”

But my mind feels light and free knowing he won’t, that he is finally willing to let me fall over the edge of this cliff I have been forced to remain at all night.

My hands are in his hair, nails dragging over his scalp and I hum deep in my throat. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, fully focused on how good he makes me feel. One of his hands is on my lower abdomen, the other working in tandem with his skilled mouth, drawing circles onto my clit , and the orgasm comes quickly and without resistance, wave after glorious wave washing over me, making me moan and cry and causing more tears.

When I can’t take any more, I pull at his hair to make him stop, dragging him back up my body. He takes his time to place soothing kisses over my battered torso, licks around each nipple until he is back above me.

He gives me that confident, really self-assured look he always does after he’s made me come, and then wipes the tears from my cheeks. There is such love and care showing in his eyes and expressed in his touch that I feel almost overwhelmed.

“I hope you know,” he says with a grin and a raised brow, “that I now really want you to help me break in my desk in San Francisco.”

His suggestion makes me laugh with a hiccup, easing away the lump in my throat brought on by the intensity of the night, and I place my palm on his cheek. He leans into my caress, closing his eyes for a second.

“Those must have been quite the reports you were reading…” I tease, my voice rough, but hoping to find out what kept him so distracted.

He snorts at that and kisses my palm, eyes sparkling. 

“Please, Kathryn, give yourself some credit. I have absolutely no idea what’s on those padds.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to [Mia Cooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCooper/works) for the thorough betaing. You have massively improved my writing!  
> Further thanks for [Miss_Mil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/works) for the first round of comments and [khurst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/khurst/pseuds/khurst/works) as well as [angrywarrior69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angrywarrior69/pseuds/angrywarrior69) for the porny brainstorming. I love you kinky bitches. <3


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